Real Women Have Curves

Today I was having a conversation with a friend of mine. We were talking about women and weight. We talked about a couple specific people that we both know and where they fall on Sketch's scale. I came to a conclusion...my friend, Sketch is either a horrible, horrible little man OR measures on a completely different scale than most.

Sketch's idea of "thick" or "bigger" girls is pretty much anyone that ate today. Though he didn't call me "thick" or "bigger" he did say it about girls that I compare to in size. Perhaps he thinks I just fell off the turnip truck and didn't catch this. I kind of wanted to punch Sketch right square in his little nose which sits upon his little head a top his skinny little body but then I realized it just didn't matter.

Before you think that I spent my night with my face buried in a tub of ice cream or standing in front of the mirror dissecting my bulges think again. I know I am NOT "thick" or "bigger" but even if I was I wouldn't let this skinny little man's measurement make me think less of myself. Do I have my share of body image issues? Sure I do but those are my own, not ideas put in my head by any other person.

With people who measure like Sketch it is no wonder that I know a very slender six year old girl who is already concerned about her weight or rather the worry that she will some day get "fat". It is sad that she is thinking about someone else's idea of what she should look like already at such a young age.

Poor Sketch he just doesn't even have a clue. "Thick" by his measurement is more like average. If he adjusted his scale of measurement to reflect truth he may open himself up to see that an average women is not stick thin with no existence of an ass and only skin covering her protruding bones. Real women have curves buddy and I am a real women.

In My Red High Heels

For the longest time I never understood how or why women wore high heeled shoes. Part of this ignorance towards heels might have been to my inability to walk in them. OK, I was able to walk but it wasn't pretty.

Then one day I walked into a store and saw the most adorable pair of red polka dot heels and I had to have them. I put them on and instantly felt the pull of the muscles in the back of my legs. I felt my sex appeal go up a couple of points. I felt taller and more powerful. I felt more feminine than any other piece of clothing or accessory had ever made me feel before. I felt like shouting "I am woman, hear me roar!".

I bought them with intentions to first learn how to walk in them and then to wear them to my future brother in laws wedding. I also bought a pair of flats...just in case.

For the next couple of weeks I wore my super cute heels around the house. I wore them while I did laundry and while I did dishes (well while I loaded the dishwasher anyway). I wore them while chasing my 3 little monkeys around the house in my pajamas. I planned an outfit to wear to the wedding that would match the heels as well as the flats...just in case.

Determined to wear these fabulous shoes to the upcoming event I decided I needed to make sure I didn't look like a heffelump walking in them. I asked Papa Bear but really I needed a women's opinion. Crazy Mamas to the rescue! Just one of the millions of times it comes in handy to have 9 great friends willing and able to help with just about anything at any given time.

I went to "The Young, Blonde Wannabe"'s house first and strutted across her hardwood. Looks good she told me. OK...but I wanted to be REALLY sure...just in case. Next I went to "Chesty McBreasty"'s (she is probably the closest I know to a high heel expert) and paraded around her living room. With her approval I was finally convinced that I was ready to make my public high heel debut.

I continued to practise for the last few days before the wedding and then the day of I slipped on my spectacular red footwear, felt the "power surge" and cautiously headed out.

At the end of the night I had several blisters (mostly due to the extremely rainy wet weather) and a new sense of accomplishment. That's one small step for any women, one giant (sexified) leap for Slightlyinsanestacey.